


and we'll fight 'til the end

by elizaham8957



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, I basically just wrote the end scene I want to see that MTV would never even consider writing so, I'm still just trying to fix canon, Post canon, Probably Canon Divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 20:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12140139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaham8957/pseuds/elizaham8957
Summary: “Still,” Stiles continues, and Scott is reminded of the conversation they had a year ago, on the dawn of senior year, when Stiles felt the compulsion to worry about how they would all get into colleges in the same area. How they would stay together. Scott can smell the nerves coming off his best friend, and even if Stiles says he’s okay now, that he doesn’t worry about it anymore, Scott can tell he does. He doesn’t blame him. In all honesty, he worries about it too.“We’re all going our separate ways, for real this time.” Stiles inhales, eyes fixed on the town before them. “I mean… we could seriously never be together again.”“That’s really encouraging, Stiles,” Malia says, making a face at him. But Scott doesn’t feel the same dread wafting off Stiles, because suddenly hesees.***They must all go their separate ways, but they'll never really leave each other.





	and we'll fight 'til the end

**Author's Note:**

> SOOOOO. I wrote this in the last hour instead of doing my fluid mechanics lab and I would just like to formally say that it's all Allison's fault. Anyways, can you imagine if the show ended this way in real life? I think I would cry. 
> 
> Okay, I have to go eat dinner. I hope you enjoy it and it makes you as emo about Teen Wolf ending as it has made me.

It’s quiet at the lookout point.

Scott can’t remember the last time he was here. It’s been ages, he knows that much. Too long. Probably not since the beginning of senior year, when their biggest problem was figuring out how they would cope with going their separate ways. But it feels fitting, that they’re here. It’s peaceful in a way that Beacon Hills hasn’t been for them lately. With the Anuk-ite destroyed, Monroe defeated, and the Nemeton burned to ash, Beacon Hills has returned to the sleepy, quiet town it once was years ago, when the most exciting thing to happen was the discovery of half a dead body in the woods. Scott realizes that he missed this more than he could imagine. Looking out over the town now, dappled light shining through the tree cover at the edge of the lookout— he doesn’t often wish that he’d never been bitten anymore. Becoming a werewolf has filled his life with peril, pain, and heartbreak, but it has also made him a different person. A _stronger_ person. Someone who stands up for what is right, who fights to protect people, who defends even those who fear what he can do.

 _We protect those who cannot protect themselves,_ he thinks, and he knows that he will spend every day for the rest of his life trying to make sure Allison’s code is honored.

The leaves on the ground shuffle quietly as his friends come to stand next to him. Malia stops by his side, eyes trained on the sprawling, sleepy town below. Stiles and Lydia have been glued at the hip since his return, and now is no exception— their intertwined fingers hang in between them as they look out over the ridge.

Tomorrow they all leave for school, for _good_ this time. Miraculously, Scott managed to miss only the orientation portion of his first week of school, and classes at UC Davis haven’t started yet. Lydia’s intelligence alone was enough to get her into classes late, even if she had missed registration. And Stiles isn't exactly sure what his superiors at the internship will say about him skipping out for half a week, but his position there still stands, according to Scott’s dad.

It seems a little surreal that they’re leaving. Scott knew they were supposed to leave a few weeks ago, but Beacon Hills always seems to somehow pull them back in. They are forever connected to this town, in a way that even when they go off to new places, Scott thinks they will still feel the pull to this town. The town that has forged their friendships, strengthened their bond and made them into the people they are today. A town that has handed them both love and heartbreak, joy and sorrow, and forced them to learn to carry both. This town will never really leave them, Scott knows. This is the place where he was turned. The place he became a true alpha and learned that family is not always born— sometimes it is made. This town is the place where Allison Argent rests, and Scott knows that her impact on their lives will never diminish. She’ll be there with them always, the price of her sacrifice paying for every moment they have together outside of the borders of Beacon Hills.

“It’s so quiet.” Malia finally comments, her expression almost miffed. “It seems like something should be happening.”

“Be thankful it’s not,” Lydia interjects, her hand wrapped around Stiles’s bicep, her body tucked into his side. “We need to leave tomorrow. And actually _leave_ this time.”

“I can’t believe we’re leaving,” Stiles comments, looking at Scott. “I know I was already gone, but… it feels like I was still here with you guys. Like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to happen and for me to need to come running back.”

“Which it did,” Lydia points out, arching a brow at her boyfriend. He grins at her cheekily, the affection in his eyes evident even to Scott, standing a few feet away.

“Still,” Stiles continues, and Scott is reminded of the conversation they had a year ago, on the dawn of senior year, when Stiles felt the compulsion to worry about how they would all get into colleges in the same area. How they would stay together. Scott can smell the nerves coming off his best friend, and even if Stiles _says_ he’s okay now, that he doesn’t worry about it anymore, Scott can tell he does. He doesn’t blame him. In all honesty, he worries about it too.

“We’re all going our separate ways, for real this time.” Stiles inhales, eyes fixed on the town before them. “I mean… we could seriously never be together again.”

“That’s really encouraging, Stiles,” Malia says, making a face at him. But Scott doesn’t feel the same dread wafting off Stiles, because suddenly he _sees._

He sees himself in front of UC Davis, biology textbooks in hand, a fresh school year ahead of him. He can see the sprawling campus, picture the classes he’ll take, places he’ll go, people he’ll meet. But he knows that they will never be his _pack,_ never replace the spot that these people around him have in his heart. He can picture late night skype calls with Stiles, desperate text messages to Lydia about his calculus homework, pictures sent from Malia during her world travels. He can see his roommate rolling his eyes as he tells stories of his friends _again,_ can picture the smile on his mom’s face when he comes home for a weekend and brings her dinner at the hospital.

He sees Malia in France, exploring the world, learning more about herself and the places around her than she had ever hoped. He can see her sending them all postcards, meeting strangers and running wild in the countryside. Exploring enough places to make up for the amount of times she nearly died not knowing what was to the world past the border of Beacon Hills. And he can see her coming home to them, one day, the experiences of her discoveries rich around her.

He sees Lydia at MIT, proving without a doubt that she is the smartest person they will ever know. He sees her graduating in record time, taking the world by storm with her genius. He can see her picturesque dorm room, impeccable down to the last detail, with walls artfully plastered in pictures of _them._ Of her pack. Of the people that helped teach her that she was more than a pretty face, that she was intelligent and powerful. Of the people that she has saved more times than Scott can count, and the people that have helped save _her_ a few times.

And he can see Stiles, there with her at every opportunity. The two of them snuggled up in her bed, walking down the streets of Boston or DC, hands intertwined. Solving problems, figuring it out. They have always been the best at that, anyways. Scott still finds himself blown away by what a good pair they are; how well they compliment each other. They truly are the perfect combination, and he can see them, their lives sprawling ahead of them, intertwined always by that red string of fate that keeps them tied together.

Scott can see Stiles, too. See his best friend, his _brother_ in every sense but literal blood, dominating at GW and proving everyone at the FBI that he absolutely has what it takes. He can see Stiles doing what he does best for the rest of his life: solving riddles, completing puzzles, and figuring it out. He can hear the phone calls he’ll get where Stiles just needs to talk it through before answering his own question and _figuring it out._ Stiles may be the only human in this pack, but they would be _nowhere_ without him and his sleuthing skills. Scott realizes how much he has missed his best friend in these past months. Realizes how much he will miss him in the _future._ They have four years of school ahead of them— most of them, anyways— but Scott isn’t worried anymore.

Because he can see their whole lives, suddenly. Like one of Lydia’s visions, though much less ominous. He can see his mom’s backyard, _years_ from now, filled with every single person that is a part of this pack. His mom and Stiles’s dad at the grill, serving food as dusk falls around the peaceful scene. Derek with Braeden, the two of them speaking to Isaac while their little girls chase the Stilinskis’ dog. Stiles following after them, holding his daughter’s tiny hand, Lydia balancing their son on her hip while she talks to Chris about her research project and her progress on that Field’s medal. He sees Malia hug her dad— her _real_ dad, not the sick excuse for a person that has done nothing but put her through torture and heartbreak— before Mr. Tate sits with the rest of the guests, smiling at the faces around him. He sees Liam, Mason, and Corey, still laughing like they would in high school, Mason and Corey’s youngest balanced on his uncle Liam’s knee while Liam’s wife watches, a content smile on her face.

Scott can feel a tug at his sleeve, and he looks down, a little boy with Kira’s eyes and his crooked jaw beaming up at him. He sees Kira walk over, their other baby asleep in her arms, her tiny fist curled around Kira’s collar. He sees his wife completely in check with her powers, and she physically looks the same as she did when they met, years and years ago, but the aura of power around her is stronger and more balanced. Scott can see himself wrap an arm around her, pulling her into his side as he surveys the pack in front of him. This family that has been forged from heartbreak and trial, but also unbelievable joy. He can feel his eyes shine red as he surveys his family, his _pack,_ the next generation of them already growing and learning to be strong and brave like their parents. He can see that they always, truly, will be a part of each others’ lives.

Scott blinks, and he’s back at the lookout point.

The town still sprawls before him. The leaves still crunch under his feet. The early autumn air is crisp, signalling the changing of seasons. The changing of _everything._ But he doesn't worry anymore. He knows that no matter where they go, what they do, they will always be connected.

“No,” Scott says, his voice confident. His friends turn to look at him, their expressions curious. He sees again the way they all gravitate together, and he has never been more sure of something in his life.

“We’re a pack,” he tells them, his eyes finding Malia’s, Lydia’s, Stiles’s. He smiles at them, small and hopeful and full of certainty. “We’re always gonna be together.”

And Scott knows, more than anything, that they will be.


End file.
